


The Great Work

by ohmyfae



Series: Dads of the Year [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Gen, uncle Ardyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 15:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13707426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: When he is still very young, Noctis Lucis Caelum's father passes away, leaving Noct in the care of his strange, immortal Uncle Ardyn.(A fill for the kinkmeme!)





	1. Prince, Age Five and One-Quarter

The high priestess of Etro raised her hands to the bells that would carry the one hundred and thirteenth monarch of Lucis beyond the planes of the living, and cried out four words in the dead language of the Astrals. The bells rang, tinny and high in the open air of the Citadel roof, and three hundred Crownsguard, Kingsglaive, and assorted nobles answered, calling out in one great, terrible voice.

Ardyn Lucis Caelum stood in the back, nursing a cup of dark wine he didn't much care for. He'd seen the same ritual done so many times now that the words of farewell stilled on his tongue, feeling false and dry, and he figured that for this king, it wasn't a fitting memorial in any case. Regis Lucis Caelum, Ardyn's descendant of one hundred and twelve generations, would be best remembered in silence, reading an old book with a glass of brandy at his side. That, or setting something on fire. 

Regis _was_ a bit reckless in his youth, after all.

The high priestess called for Etro to welcome the late king until the time come for him to return to aid the chosen king of light, the hero who would bring about an end to the Scourge.

A handful of people glanced back at Ardyn, and he raised his glass in a small, silent toast before taking a sip.

"Excuse me." Ardyn looked down, and saw the small, bespectacled boy who was Prince Noctis' best friend, sandy hair brushed severely to the side. "Sir. Your majesty. Um."

Ardyn raised his eyebrows. The boy squirmed.

"It's Noct," he whispered. "He's gone."

Ah. Ardyn hadn't interacted much with the young prince until his father took ill, and the nurses who took charge of the boy had left him in Ardyn's care the moment he began to, as they put it, act out. It was remarkable, really, how quickly mortals could forget what it was like to be a child, bored and worried while adults ran around changing the rules of the universe without your consent. Ardyn nodded to the boy at his side and scanned the roof, searching for a place that a young child might find safe.

There. A classic. Ardyn quietly skirted the congregated mourners and stepped around the drinks cart, which had heavy black drapes that just brushed the ground. He ducked behind it and lifted the drapes, provoking a gasp from the small boy hidden inside.

Noctis Lucis Caelum, the five year old new ruler of Lucis, hugged his Carbuncle figurine to his chest and stared up at Ardyn with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. 

"It was the shouting, wasn't it?" Ardyn asked. He bent double and climbed under the drink cart himself, head bowed so as not to send a tower of champagne crashing one hundred stories. 

Noctis nodded. 

"We don't have to stay," Ardyn said. "Do you know what will happen next? Two hours of people talking in slow, dull voices like this, all about politics and gods and..." he made a _pffff_ sound, and Noctis smiled weakly. "No, I think it would be much better if the two of us went downstairs, where they keep all the pastries that get broken or have too much chocolate, and you can eat yourself sick while everyone else drinks terrible wine and talks about taxes."

"How can you have too much chocolate?" Noctis asked.

"See?" Ardyn crawled out from under the cart, and held out a hand. "A reasonable question. Let's find out the answer together, shall we?"

Noctis clutched the figurine in his fist, and took Ardyn's hand. Ardyn knelt to pick him up--he really was a skinny little thing--and Noctis smiled again when Ardyn made a short, distinctly magical gesture with his hand. 

The two of them passed unseen through the crowd, disappearing down the stairs just as the high priestess began the low, tuneless dirge of Remembrance.

 

\---

 

No one went into Ardyn Lucis Caelum's corner of the Citadel.

It wasn't a rule, exactly. Not in the way that "sit up straight, your highness," was a rule, or "I don't care what your late father said, you must eat your vegetables," or "princes don't sneak out during lessons." It was just the truth. No one but Ardyn ever went in, and no one but Ardyn ever went out. Even the cleaning staff didn't touch it. Noct heard two servants whisper, once, that the rooms were the same as they'd been two thousand years ago, when Ardyn was still young and fully human. 

So Noct knew that he was probably doing something wrong. But it was late, the door to his father's room was still locked, and Noct didn't think he could be the big brave highness the exasperated nurses begged him to be. He picked up the throw blanket his father used to set on his lap when he read to him, grabbed a cactuar plush, and dragged them both down the long, empty hallway, to the top of the stairs, beyond which his strange uncle Ardyn lived.

The stairway yawned before him, a jagged mouth beckoning him into the dark.

Ardyn Lucis Caelum's bedroom door was made of old, polished wood inlaid with gold ferns, framed by an image of two women trying to fill a vase with a hole in the bottom. Noctis raised a hand to rap on a blank spot, then froze.

What if Uncle Ardyn sent him back? He was always working, lately, because Noct wasn't smart enough or brave enough or big enough to rule like everyone wanted. What if Noct was just bothering him, and Ardyn wouldn't want to pass him candy during boring meetings, or ruffle his hair, or teach him how to make those funny little spells that could freeze every cup in the dining table solid?

Slowly, Noctis lowered his hand. He sat down on the floor, blanket pulled tight around his shoulders, and gingerly lay his head on the cactuar plush. 

The door swung open after the first muffled sob. Noct pressed his hand to his mouth and curled up in a ball of five-year-old misery, waiting for the order to leave. Everyone was telling him to leave them alone, lately, everyone but Iggy and Gladdy and Uncle Ardyn. It was only a matter of time before he disappointed them, too.

"Oh, dear," Ardyn said.

"'M sorry," Noct mumbled, trying to disappear under his blanket.

Large, calloused hands slid under his back and legs, and Noct's eyes flew open as Ardyn lifted him off the floor. He wrapped his arms around Ardyn's neck instinctively, and stared as he was carried into a room that no one other than Ardyn had seen in two thousand years.

"Pardon the mess," Ardyn said. He passed a mosaic featuring a woman cloaked in gold, wings unfurled behind her. Someone had stuck a plastic hook next to one of her outstretched hands, and Ardyn's favorite coat hung there, next to another hook bearing his hat. There was a cubby full of scrolls in waxy-looking parchment, a rack of swords Noct itched to touch, and a whole wall of books, all of them hard-bound, some held together with bits of string. A futon lay near the books, along with an empty clay mug.

Ardyn deposited Noctis on the futon, then sat on the floor next to him. Noct leaned in to fist his hands in the soft cotton of Ardyn's pajama pants.

"Didn't wanna wake you up," Noct said. Ardyn made a face at that, a sort of pained grimace that Noct's father used to make after long audiences.

"I barely sleep," said Ardyn. "It's no matter. But you..." He narrowed his eyes, and Noct sat back to hug his plush close. "Something must be done. No child of Lucis should go starving for comfort." He helped Noct get settled under the blankets. "Would you prefer that I move to your part of the Citadel? Or would you--"

"I don't wanna bug you," Noct whispered. His vision was going fuzzy around the edges--it was getting harder to stay awake. "Why are there crystals on the ceiling?"

"They ward off daemons," Ardyn said, in a faint, faraway voice. Above him, rows and rows of foggy pink and blue crystals swayed on fine chains.

"Oh. Cool."

"I'll clear out space in the study," Ardyn said. Noct blinked, slowly, and the light was out, save for one glowing crystal that shone in the corner. Ardyn sat there, reading through a scroll, his red hair gone dark as ink.

"I'm still here," he said. 

"You won't go?" Noct asked. He felt icy terror pinch at his chest, the same jolt that happened whenever he tried the handle of his father's room or searched for his mother among the crowded reception halls of the Citadel.

Ardyn's smile was wan. "Trust me, my boy," he said. "You would be hard-pressed to find a way to get rid of _me."_

Noct lay there for a moment, squinting into the dim light of the crystal.

"Promise?"

Ardyn looked up, and the pits of his eyes were so dark that they were almost black, lines of shadow trailing down his cheeks.

"Promise."


	2. Nephew, Age Eight and a Half

"I heard," Gladio said, while he and Noctis sat in the middle of the Crownsguard armory, polishing weapons with the sort of exaggerated care others would use to carry live coals, "that he keeps the skulls of the old kings in his room."

 _"I_ never saw any," Noct said. At eight, he hadn't slept in his own rooms in years. Ardyn had arranged a futon in his study, where Noct fell asleep listening to the clack of crystals swaying overhead, surrounded by books and scrolls and strange little boxes with bits of lost civilizations held on velvet cushions. He woke up to the sound of Ardyn humming old songs and mending tapestries or making shapes out of fire, and would slowly eat breakfast while Ardyn pored over the reports that a regent needed to read in order to rule. But he'd never seen any skulls.

"There's a skeleton, though," he said, after a minute. Gladio went still. "Some kinda bird. It hangs up in the middle of the room. Uncle Ardyn says it's what chocobos used to be, but it's pretty small."

"Oh." Gladio's shoulders sank. "You'd tell me if he was, you know. Weird, right? Like, talking to skulls kinda weird?"

"Gladio." Noct lay down his polishing brush. "Uncle Ardyn is always weird. He taught me how to warp with a slipper last week. And he showed me and Ignis how to use the secret passages to the roof, and he thinks asparagus tastes nice, and he calls me things like _nepos_ and starts going on and on about boring old words no one uses anymore."

"Grandson," Gladio said. Noct gave him a curious look. "I think Nepos means grandson. Or nephew. Or maybe both. Dad's making me take classes."

"That probably explains why he thinks the name's so funny. He's like, my times-a-millionth grandpa."

Gladio handed Noct a polished sword, and Noct screwed up his face, trying to call on the magic in his bones. After a moment of intense concentration, the sword disappeared into his armiger with a flash of light. Gladio nodded and picked out a new one for polishing.

"That's one funny thing," Gladio said. "Whenever you and his majesty have magic lessons, his majesty's magic is always red. Did he ever say why?"

Noct fell silent. He thought of the time he missed a warp and went crashing into a wall a year ago. His leg had gone all funny and twisted, and Ardyn had run to him, hands out, like he could do something just by holding him tight and wishing hard enough. He'd held a large, calloused hand to Noct's knee, and through the tears of pain and rolling nausea in his stomach, Noct saw flashes of red and gold at Ardyn's fingertips, like a fuse blowing out. Ardyn had strained until his face was red and his breath came short, but when the medics from the Kingsglaive offices came to carry Noct off, his magic hadn't done more than distract Noctis from the pain.

"I'm so sorry, my boy," Ardyn had said. "I wish--"

But Noct never heard what Ardyn wished for. He caught him staring at Noct's cast after that, sometimes, with the sort of strange, melancholy look he got when he stopped by the hall of Kings or gazed up at the crystals on the ceiling. It was an old look, and ancient look, turning Ardyn bit by bit into the man he'd been thousands of years ago, young and uncertain and new to his power. Noct was afraid to speak to him, then, worried that if he did, Ardyn wouldn't recognize him, lost in a world where his magic ran gold and he never had to hide in his bedroom when the pain was too much. 

Sometimes, Noct drew on his own magic, trying to call on whatever it was Ardyn had been trying for. Light. Healing. Now and then, Noct almost thought he could feel something hidden deep beneath the magic that made fire and ice and lightning, in the same way he could feel for a sock in the bottom of his dresser by touch alone. But it always slipped out of his grasp when he tried to pull it up, leaving Noct worn out and unable to even call up a fire.

One day, though. One day, maybe he'd get it right. Then he could help Ardyn the way Ardyn hadn't been able to help him, and Ardyn would never have to apologize again.

 

\---

 

Prompto Argentum, adopted son of Mary and Helen Argentum and international incident in the making, stood in the third basement hallway of the Citadel and stared at Ardyn Lucis Caelum's shoes.

Ardyn knew about the boy, of course. Regis had come to Ardyn when he was rescued from Gralea, the latest in an attempt by the emperor of Niflheim to create an army rather than draft one. His adopted mothers were former Intel analysts working in the Citadel, and occasionally, reports on his progress passed through Council meetings with all the fanfare of monthly traffic regulation reviews.

"He didn't mean to lose him," Prompto said, and Ardyn glanced at Noct, who was sullenly staring at the wall. "But now he's stuck, and we gotta get him out or he'll die."

"Noctis," Ardyn said. Noct turned a shoulder to Ardyn, hunching in on himself a little. "Noctis, refusing to look at me won't make me disappear."

Noct hunched further, biting his cheek. Prompto shifted from foot to foot, looking from Ardyn to Noct with increasing unease.

"You not only snuck a civilian into the Citadel," Ardyn said, in a slow, even tone, "but you managed to bring in a dog, as well? Honestly, I'm rather impressed."

Noct's feet shifted, and his gaze flicked to Ardyn's for a fraction of a second.

"He followed us home," he said.

"Ah. Of course. And who can say no to the piteous eyes of a small fluffy creature, mm?"

"You can," Noct said. "You hate animals."

"No," Ardyn corrected him, smiling faintly. "Animals hate me. I can take them or leave them, personally."

"Well, we can't leave Tiny in there," Prompto said. He blushed when Ardyn looked to him, and mumbled, "Your Majesty, sir."

Ardyn turned to the door to the Crystal chamber. Of course, Noctis' new best friend and their stray pup had to come here, to the one place where even the very air stung Ardyn's skin, calling to the Scourge in his veins. He laid a hand on the door to the chamber and twisted the sign of Etro on the lock, inverting it, turning it into the symbol for regeneration, for rebirth. A clever little joke, considering that the Crystal would one day lead to the erasure of Ardyn's soul from the ether.

And, of course, to the death of the poor soul fated to wield its power. Ardyn supposed there wouldn't even _be_ a Lucis by then, and that the line of kings would have become no more than quiet sentinels in the desert, with no need for an old ruler to advise them, care for them, or learn their names.

It would be easier, then.

The door fell open, and the small white dog sleeping beneath the Crystal sat up.

Then all Ardyn saw was whiteness, a blinding light through which a young man walked, bearing Regis' jaw and Aulea's eyes, the roundness of his cheeks lost to the years and made haggard with exhaustion. The Kings of the Lucii were at his back, and when he strode to Ardyn, sword drawn, he came to him with a small, lost smile in his eyes.

"Uncle," he said. "I'm so sorry. It's time."

"No," Ardyn said, and the light consumed the man before him, burning his flesh away like a fire without smoke, leaving nothing behind but Ardyn.

"Don't look!" That was Noctis. Ardyn blinked through the haze and caught sight of Noctis the boy, Noctis who slept in his study and laughed at the old songs Ardyn could barely remember the words to, holding Prompto by the shoulders and turning him away from the door. "His face doesn't really look like that, it's just the, the vision, it isn't real."

"What vision?" Prompto asked. "Where's Tiny? She should be there, why isn't she--"

"Just don't look," Noctis said, and pushed Prompto into the hall. He ran for Ardyn--strange. When had Ardyn fallen to his knees? Surely he would have felt it--and laid his hands on either side of Ardyn's face.

"Uncle," he said. "Uncle Ardyn, your face. It's doing the... the thing it does, when you're tired."

"Oh." Ardyn raised a hand to his eyes, and blinked at the blackness that smeared his fingertips. "I suppose so."

"It's okay," Noctis said. He looked over his shoulder, to where the Crystal was wrapping tendrils of light around itself like a cloak, and lowered his voice. "It's okay. I won't let it happen, Uncle Ardyn. I promise."

It was only then that Ardyn saw the tears streaming down Noct's cheeks, and felt the tremor in his fingers. He pulled Noct into an embrace, and silently whispered a curse to the Astrals, to the Crystal, to the Lucii themselves. Noctis shuddered and wept into his shoulder, and Ardyn lifted his head, staring into the heart of the Crystal.

"No fear, my boy," he said. "What you've seen is nothing more than a nightmare." He stroked the back of Noct's hair, and the boy clung tight to his jacket. "Nothing more."


	3. Goddess, Eternal

"Noct," Ignis said, holding Noct's left hand while Gladio clung to his right. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"It's a terrible idea," Prompto said. He pushed up his thick glasses and pattered behind Ignis. "Everyone knows the priestesses kill anyone who breaks in."

"That'd go against their beliefs," Noct whispered. His voice took on a sing-song tone. " _We walk with death, we--"_

" _Do not clear the path,"_ Gladio finished. "I hate that line."

The four of them stood in the temple of Etro, high on the top floor of the Citadel, where wind battered the stained glass and only the fire at the altar chased away the chill of the flagstones. They were all dressed in black, save for Prompto, who could only find a grey t-shirt from his mother's closet, and looked like misshapen shadows in the gloom. Above them, a fresco of the chosen king of light loomed on the ceiling, the four figures at the top seeming much more composed and assured than any of them felt.

"We couldn't do this anywhere else?" Gladio asked. He nodded to the statue of Etro before the altar, her hands outstretched, a smile on her stone lips. "Sorry."

Prompto looked to Ignis, who lowered his voice. "Gladio's mum was the last high priestess of Etro."

"The Shields of the King are supposed to be her servants," Gladio said, looking up at the statue of the goddess over the altar. "If you ain't the Shield, you join the priesthood. Iris doesn't care, but... It kinda creeps me out."

"Is your mom here now?" Prompto asked. 

Gladio didn't look away from the statue. "Etro took her."

"Just like Dad," whispered Noct. 

"But she isn't taking you," Ignis said, and squeezed Noct's fingers.

"And she isn't taking Ardyn," Noct said. The others said nothing to that, but Noct's face was set, his shoulders squared, and he stared into the eyes of the goddess as though daring her to blink.

Prompto shuffled over to take Gladio's free hand, pink-faced and grim. Gladio made to pull away, caught a glimpse of steel in Prompto's expression, and sighed. The four boys approached the altar in a ragged line, hands linked, faces lit by the eternal torch of Etro. 

"Okay," Noct said. "Let's do this."

Gladio handled the cup of sylleblossom ashes at the altar, mumbling quick prayers under his breath and holding it with his fingertips, as though worried it would burn his hands. He drew a symbol on Ignis and Prompto's foreheads, then knelt so Noct could draw that same symbol on his. 

"Is it gonna be enough?" Noct asked.

"I dunno," Gladio said. "Mom never really let me in to see, since I'm a shield. We have our own ceremonies, you know?"

"Like hitting people with sticks," Noct said, and they both exchanged weak, watery smiles.

"Draw a line through mine," Gladio said. Noct's eyes widened. "If the goddess goes after you, I need to be able to offer myself instead. If the rune's unbroken, I can't do a thing."

"Then draw a line through mine, too," Ignis said. 

"A-and," Prompto started, pale as ash himself. 

Noct shook his head. "You guys aren't gonna piss off a goddess for me. Thanks, though." He smiled at them all: A strange, ancient smile that didn't look quite right on his narrow face, and climbed onto the altar.

"Etro," he said, his voice thin in the cold air. "My name is Noctis Lucis Caelum. I'm the chosen one of the ancient prophecy, and I..." He clenched his fists. "I'm challenging you to a contest."

For a long, terrible second, nothing happened. Noctis stood alone and defiant on the altar, flanked by his friends, facing the front of an empty shrine. Then, without so much as a puff of wind to herald its passing, the eternal flame of Etro went out.

 

\---

 

When the goddess of death entered her temple in Insomnia, she appeared with the sound of wooden doors shuffing over worn carpets. She appeared with the click of a parent turning off a light, the hiss of steam rising from a mug, the silence that lingered after a wheezing, wonderful laugh that left everyone sobbing and breathless. The scent of old leaves filled the temple as her feet, covered in soft, sensible slippers, touched down on the stone at the far end of the aisle.

When she looked up at Noctis, standing on her altar with his hands clenched, her dark eyes crinkled in a smile.

She was possibly the most beautiful woman Noct had ever met, in a comfortable, grown-up sort of way. She wore a loose dress in burnt gold that complimented her dark, flawless skin, and her hair was twisted up in a wrap of the same shimmering color. She had a sheer black shawl with sleeves, more like a gauzy jacket than anything, which floated behind her as though on a breeze, and there was a ring on her right middle finger that was an exact copy of the one Noct's dad used to wear. 

She lifted her hands to Noctis when she reached the altar. Noct scrambled down, unaware of the way his friends stood stricken, frozen in time, only the runes on their foreheads moving with the flicker of light on the water. Etro took Noct by the shoulders, and her hands were warm, her smile fond. He wondered, vaguely, if this was what having a mother felt like.

"You called for me," she said. A small part of Noct remembered to be afraid, whispering that he'd challenged her, and Noct flushed. The goddess only laughed, and his fear was chased away again, weak and shivering, into the back of his mind.

"Sit," she said, and then, just like that, they were sitting. The temple was still there--Noct could see the pillars on either side, and they were sitting in one of the pews--but it was also not there, the walls falling away to reveal a wide grassy plain filled with flowers and trees and bushes, with a stream running down the aisle between the pews.

"It's amazing," he said, without thinking. Etro beamed at him.

"Of course it is." She sat back against the pew and lifted her arm, and Noct settled into her side. Her shawl brushed his neck as she wrapped her arm around him. "It's mine. Everything around us. Everything you see."

"But it's." Noct dragged at his lower lip with his teeth. A bird flitted across the sky, and a tree, green and vibrant and bursting with blossoms, rustled in the wind.

"Alive?" Etro asked. "Yes, and no. There are a million little deaths happening here every second, Noctis. Seeds burst and fall and find no roots to anchor them. Creatures give themselves to the soil. Leaves brown. Grass breaks. Age comes to that bird, shedding feathers, giving it the wisdom it needs to flee the winter. Wherever you see change, Noctis, you see my work. I am here even in the tree that will not die for another thousand years, shaping it, making it beautiful."

Noct looked into her eyes. "What about Dad? Do you have him? And Mom?"

"Yes."

"Are they okay?"

Etro's arm jostled Noct in a shaky sort of hug. "That is a question only they can answer, and I will not bring the dead to life, Noctis. Not even for my children's chosen one."

Her children, Noct thought. The idea of speaking with an Astral's mother was a little daunting, even when she was sweet and soft and beautiful. "About that," he said. "The chosen one thing. I don't think it's gonna work."

Etro sighed, and waved her free hand before her face. Night fell over the plain, bringing with it a glorious sky full of stars. She licked her thumb and smudged one out. "You'd like to bargain for your life?"

"Not really," Noct said. "I want to bargain for Uncle Ardyn's."

The goddess paused in the act of rearranging a distant galaxy, and looked down at him with something like surprise. "Oh?"

"It isn't right," Noct said. "How it's supposed to happen. The Crystal showed me, and it says I'm supposed to. Supposed to _kill_ him, and we. I. I can't. I love him, I can't. It'd be like killing Dad."

"I took your father's hand when he came to me," the goddess said. Her smile faded, but a hint of it remained in her eyes, reflecting the light of the stars. "I should have taken your uncle's hand one thousand, nine hundred and sixty-three years ago. But my children needed him, and they begged me to let him take in the daemons they'd created. Daemons, I should add, that also should have come to me long ago."

"You can't claim them?" Noct asked. Etro frowned.

"No. Not without a great amount of power."

"What kind of power?" Noct asked. He twisted to get a better look at her face. "The Crystal?"

Etro shook her head. "What I need is sacrifice. My children were not willing to pay the price, so they made your line bear the burden, in a sense."

"What kind of sacrifice?" Noct asked. "You mean, like, they'd die?"

"There is more than one type of death," Etro said. "And more than one type of sacrifice. Your uncle has given enough for me, trying to right the wrongs my children have done, but it is not enough to save him." She fixed her gaze with Noct's, locking him in place. "What will you offer, Noctis?"

 _Anything,_ Noct thought, but he knew that was the wrong answer. "All I have is me," he said.

"Not your friends?" Etro asked. "Or the kingdom? It _is_ yours. You can give me Insomnia, and you and your Uncle can go elsewhere and live long lives before I come to you again."

"No," Noct said, fear clenching a fist in his chest. "No, I don't own people. I wouldn't. The kingdom isn't mine. I'm the only thing I have."

The stars seemed to shine brighter, gilding Etro's skin with a pale blue light. "Good," she said. "Oh, my children don't deserve you. Very well. Noctis." She took his hands in hers. "I will help you, but only if you give me this. When the time comes for your Uncle to come to my keeping, you will be the one to guide him there. And you will be mine; My chosen, _my_ son, a kind face to bring the dying to their rest. The great work needs more kindness, Noctis. That is my price. You, always."

Noct looked up at her, taking in the warm smile, the eyes that seemed to know him, through and through, the gentle hands and soothing voice. 

"Okay," he said.

There was a tremor in the air, a shiver that rattled the pillars of the temple and made even the unreal stars shake and flicker. Etro stood, still holding Noct's hands, and drew him up with her.

"Ah," she cried, in a voice of triumph and delight. " _There_ is power!" She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they were black all the way through. "Come, Noctis," she said. "You will help me bring the daemons home to me, and then you will have your Uncle."

Her shawl lifted in a wind Noctis couldn't feel, stretching and flapping and spreading over them both like a massive wing, and then the temple was gone, and they were standing in Ardyn's quarters, surrounded by shuddering and jingling crystals. Ardyn turned to them, and his face went slack, the color draining from his face.

"Hey, Uncle Ardyn," Noct said, and squeezed the hand of the goddess tight. She winked and squeezed back. "There's someone to see you."


	4. Uncle, Age Two Thousand and Sixty-Four

Ardyn's knees hit the floor with a bang that shook a tapestry down from the wall. Noct raced over to rescue it--it was Ardyn's favorite, the one with the unicorn--and Ardyn stared at Etro with his face a ruin of black blood. Some of it dropped on his knees, and Etro clicked her tongue and sank down with him, taking his face in her hands.

Ardyn," she said, in a strange, lilting accent. "My most dutiful servant. My--" here she spoke words Noct couldn't understand, in the language Ardyn sang in, sometimes. It sounded almost sing-song even then, full of odd tones and ululations. A tear ran down the goddess' perfect cheek.

"Noctis," she said, when Noct was done wrestling with the tapestry. "I need you to help call the daemons home."

Noct stepped forward, suddenly unsure. "How?"

"Be happy to see them," the goddess said. "And watch for your Uncle. If he touches me, he is mine. You will need to turn him back."

But they were already touching, Noct wanted to say. He couldn't, though, because he was whirled away to that vast plain again, where he and the goddess stood side by side before an army of people and animals, weaving through the grass in confusion.

The goddess lifted her hands.

"Where are the daemons?" Noct asked.

"They are here," Etro said. "Call to them, Noctis. Make them feel welcome."

"Um." Noct raised a hand in a wave, spotting a group of small kids a few yards away. "Uh, hey! Hey, come here!"

One of the kids, a girl with a long braid down her back, looked at him. Noct tried for a smile. She smiled back, a little thinly, and walked towards him.

"Hey," Noct said. "I'm Noct."

"You aren't Etro?" she asked. Her voice had that same lilt as before. "Are you... The child version?"

"No," Noct said. "I'm just here to say hi, I guess. She wants you to go to her."

The girl blanched. "I don't know... Will it hurt?"

Noct shook his head. "Don't think so," he said. "She's nice. Really."

The girl shrugged, and her smile broadened just a little. "If you say so, it has to be true," she said, and took Noct's hand. 

Then vanished, disappearing with a puff of air like a sigh. Noct looked at Etro, who was holding a man in her arms. She nodded at Noct, so he supposed that was alright. He ran for the other kids, feet thumping on the lush grass.

It took him a while to find Ardyn. Ardyn was sitting on a rock overlooking the crowd, hand on his chin, amber eyes thoughtful. He looked younger, somehow, with longer hair and more pink to his skin, and he glanced at Noct sidelong as Noct climbed onto the rock next to him.

"Hey," Noct said.

"Hey, yourself," said Ardyn.

The crowd began to thin. Some came to Noct, wandering his way in a bewildered sort of daze, and Noct took their hands and grinned and promised them that it'll be alright, promise, and they were sent off, one after another, all of them smiling. Ardyn watched him at it, looking a little lost, and said nothing.

Finally, there were only a handful of people left, speaking earnestly to Etro on the other side of the field.

"Has she taken you?" Ardyn asked at last. His voice was light, but there was an edge to it. "Are you hers, now?"

"Sort of?" Noct scooted closer. "Not yet, though. She says you're gonna live, first. When it's over, that's when I go to her."

"Noctis." Ardyn's face twisted up the way Noct's did when he was trying not to cry, just for a second. Then he let out a long, quivery sigh, and tried to smooth his expression out again. It didn't really work. "You can't sell yourself to a goddess for me."

"I didn't," Noct said. "We made a deal. And it's better than it was gonna be."

Ardyn buried his face in his hands. "Gods."

"It's fine," Noct said. He moved to sit against him, lying his head on Ardyn's shoulder. "We'll both live, this way. And I like her. She's sweet."

"The goddess of death," Ardyn said, raising a red face from his fingers. "Sweet."

"Yeah. You'll see. Uh, not right now, though," he said. "She said if you touch her, it's all over."

"Then I'll stay right here, then," Ardyn said. He turned, gathering Noct into his arms the way he used to when Noct was little, and kissed the side of Noct's temple. "This was horribly reckless of you," he said, "and I love you dearly, and you're grounded for seventeen years."

"Seven--!" Noct squirmed. "Wait a sec!"

"No arguing," Ardyn said. "I'm still your guardian, Noctis Lucis Caelum, and I--"

Noct blinked, and they were kneeling in Ardyn's rooms, surrounded by a carpet of shattered crystals. 

"I..." Ardyn said, "am..."

One of the last straggling crystals fell from the ceiling, and Ardyn twisted, trying to drag Noct out of its way. It sliced his shoulder anyways, and Noct hissed, watching blood well up over his sleeve.

Almost unconsciously, Ardyn raised a hand to Noct's shoulder. Light rose to his fingers, and Noct felt a coolness rush over his skin, dashing away the pain. He lifted his sleeve and found the cut was gone, his skin unmarred.

"Uncle Ardyn," he said.

"Oh, gods," Ardyn said, and wrapped Noct in his arms again. He wept in broken, gasping sobs, and Noct held him through it, marveling at the lighter shade of his long, long hair.

Etro was gone. Or... maybe not. Noct thought of what she'd said in the temple, and wondered if maybe this change, this second chance Ardyn had at the life he should have been given, bore her mark. Maybe it did. Maybe she was still with them, watching in the walls, in the broken crystals, in the ever-changing spirit of the world itself.

"It's gonna be okay," Noct said, and realized, as he said it, that he was right. "Don't worry, Uncle Ardyn. It's all gonna be okay."

 

\---

 

No one knew quite what to make of the last king of Lucis.

He'd been an unusual child, by all accounts. Strange, like his so-called uncle, with a fondness for old texts and a tendency to hum songs no one but Ardyn and a few fringe historians knew the words to. He had friends, certainly--Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis were all part of the ruling Council when Noct was crowned--but there was something about him that could be vaguely unnerving, something that no one could put their finger on.

He could be found fishing in the evenings, calmly accepting advice from his subjects and cursing darkly when he lost a lure. Some nights, he and his friends would sneak away from the tabloid photographers to catch a movie, or he and his uncle would be spotted walking the Citadel gardens together, talking softly.

His uncle caused the most alarm, in both the city and the outlying regions. When Noct was young, there came a night when no daemons rose with the moon, and supplicants from all over Lucis flocked to Insomnia to ask whether the king of light had done his duty and them. And Ardyn Izunia had met them, silver threading through his hair, and assured them that all was well.

When Noctis was forty, he shocked the country again by quietly dissolving the monarchy. 

"Lucis is getting on fine," he said, when the camera crews descended. Gladiolus Amicitia stood at his back, nervously eyeing the reporters, but Noct only smiled at the cameras, faint and fond, and leaned his elbows on the podium.

"We'll survive this change," he said in a low voice, as he would to an old friend. "Just like we've survived everything else. Don't worry. It'll be okay."

He kept living in the Citadel, though his friends noticed that he kept stopping by the temple of Etro. They often found him speaking to Iris, who had taken up her duties as priestess with a cheeriness that distressed half the city, or sitting alone, looking up at the statue over the altar. 

One night, when Noct was fifty-seven, he rose from his bed and padded down the moonlit hall, heading for the rooms where he'd been raised. He stopped at the door and lifted his hand to it, smiling when it pushed open without so much as a creak.

"Uncle?" 

Ardyn sat in his study, long white hair tied back in a ribbon, hands hovering on the cover of a leatherbound book. He turned when Noct came to the doorway, and tilted his head.

"Time already, is it?" he asked.

"Yeah." Noct stepped forward, moving around piles of books and scrolls to drop to a knee at Ardyn's side. "Yeah, it's time."

Ardyn blinked, slowly, and pressed his lips together. "I suppose I had a good run."

"Longer than some," Noct said, and Ardyn chuckled.

"But it was good," Ardyn said. He lifted a hand to Noct's face. "Particularly towards the end."

"Guess so," Noct said. He leaned into his touch for a moment, then stood, holding out his hand. The study seemed to shift around him, walls giving way to a wide, starlit sky, but Noct's face was just as warm, just as kind, as it always had been.

Ardyn took his hand, and Noctis grinned.

"Want to see what's next?"


End file.
